


there's a place for us

by marvelleous



Series: a world where you and i belong [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Found Families, Inhumans AU, No spoilers for the TV series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-01 02:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12146859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelleous/pseuds/marvelleous
Summary: For someone who has lived her entire life being passed around, Daisy thinks that all her wishes have come true when her parents find her and bring her back to their home. Several months on, having stumbled out from a cocoon following terrigenesis and shattering everything around her, she wonders if the tales the nuns had told her were true, and that she has been condemned to the depths of hell for her misdeeds.It's fortunate that she doesn't have to remain there for much longer, when a childish attempt to escape the control of her parents has her snatched from earth, and deposited in the faraway city of her distant ancestors, Attilan.Or, Daisy finds herselfabductedadopted by Phil and Melinda, the King and Queen of the Inhuman Royal Family.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [danasmulder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/danasmulder/gifts).



> title from there's a place for us by carrie underwood.
> 
> happy birthday yasmin :') this entire fic is for you!

As a child, Mary Sue is fascinated by superheroes.

She remembers one of her early foster homes and the old comic books that they allowed her to read if she behaved. How she adored flipping through the worn pages, looking at the once brightly coloured panels of regular people with superpowers saving the world.

Back then, she had wanted powers more than anything. The desires filled her dreams with images of herself, growing a pair of wings large enough so she could fly away from here, and live amongst the clouds, in the sky.

How she loved the sky. It was so blue and so big, and the word sounded so pretty. It was also the one thing she could count on, because it was always there, each morning when she woke up and every night before she slept. 

Sky.

If she were allowed to choose her own name, she thinks she would choose Skye. But she is not allowed to choose what other people call her, just as she has no control over anything else in her life.

The nuns at St. Agnes always told her the only one with power was God. She did not believe them, because even they could not break her spirits, no matter how many times they tried. Even as she was sent back to the orphanage, time after time, she still had hope that one day she would leave this place for good, make her great escape.

That day doesn't come until she is fourteen, and she spends weeks wandering the streets with no place to call home. That isn't unusual for her, she's used to that, having no home, belonging nowhere.

She still dreams of having powers, but now she wants to be able to turn invisible, so she can move around without being seen. People don't notice her most of the time anyway, but being completely hidden from prying eyes will keep her safe, because if they cannot see her, then they cannot hurt her.

At the beginning, she is afraid that people from the orphanage will find her and take her back, but part of her has always known that disappearing like this will probably convenience them more than anything, having one less mouth to feed and one less child to find a home for.

Now she is afraid of who else prowls these streets at night, what sort of monstrous men hide in dark alleyways ready to attack her and hurt her.

Her life is a cycle of fear and hope, hope that she will one day find somewhere to call home.

 

* * *

 

Daisy is just shy of fifteen years old when she is reunited with her parents. She thinks that they're her parents, for why else would two people willingly take her in and welcome her as a member of their family.

Her parents are rather odd.

Cal, her father, acts insane at times, with bursts of temper and rage, though for some reason, she trusts he will never hurt her when he tells her so.

Jiaying, her mother, is the opposite. She's calm, never raising her voice and appears to be endlessly patient when dealing with Cal. But there's something about her that makes Daisy feel ill at ease, despite the joy that overwhelms her at finding her real family.

They are everything she has always imagined, and she wonders if she has finally found her home in this place they call Afterlife.

It only takes her two months of living here, living with her parents, for her to realise how incredibly wrong she is.

Her parents begin talking of a gift, passed down from her ancestors, to be bestowed upon her. They speak of an immeasurable power and whilst Daisy has always dreamt of such possibilities, she never did imagine those dreams would come true.

She is afraid.

Her father is strong. She has seen him punch through walls when he is particularly mad and she wonders how much damage he could do to a person.

She never sees her mother’s powers for herself, but from what she gathers, Jiaying has lived through many more years than one may guess at first glance. Some of the elders speak of her mother’s counsel and wonderful gift, about how she helped them transition when they first turned, and it should make no sense to her, but it does.

On the morning of her fifteenth birthday, they both tell her to be brave, and then she is taken away and locked within a sealed chamber, the room filling with mist faster than she can think to react. She wonders if this is how she might die, at the hands of her own parents, suffocated, all the air taken from her in a place where no one can hear her screams.

 

* * *

 

It feels as though there are a million bees buzzing inside her when she awakens. Everything around her is so similar, and yet completely different. The vibrations, they hurt her head and her heart is racing and the moment she begins to panic, the ground beneath her shakes.

What did they do to her?

 

* * *

 

They tell her to learn control, to harness her powers and move mountains but all she does is cause chaos and destruction.

Buildings crumble and cracks open up in the earth, and she can no longer sleep, because even unconscious she loses control, quaking the world for all that it's worth.

Her father tells her that she is magnificent.

Daisy does not see it that way.

She feels like a monster.

 

* * *

 

It takes three weeks for her to plan and execute an escape, and as she runs away in the dead of night, with only a tattered bagful of clothes to her name, she wonders how it has come to this. All her life she had wanted to find her parents, to have mystical abilities beyond comprehension, and now she would give anything to go back to where she was a year ago.

At least she feared only others then, and not herself.

She knows nothing of her surroundings, but can do no much more than run, knowing that her mother will send the no-eyed teleporter after her the moment they discover she is missing.

Daisy wonders how futile her attempt to escape might turn out to be when they drag her back to Afterlife, and based on past patterns, punish her for her insolence. She does not think her own parents would harm her, but she's trusted others in the past that have, and they're both much more powerful than anyone she's encountered in her past.

She's afraid. Of them, of herself, and she does not know what to do, tears streaming down her face as she stumbles through the darkness. Her legs are tired, and she has several shallow cuts on her arms and face from the trees and shrubbery she had passed through earlier, but she's run away before and knows the most fatal flaw is to stop.

There is only darkness for so long, and then a flash of light and her heart sinks to her stomach, realising that her fleeting chance at freedom has vanished altogether.

A hand closes around her wrist, and she wants to cry out for help, but knows there is no use. She closes her eyes and feels the familiar sensation of teleportation, weightless for a fraction of time until her feet hit solid ground again and she stumbles forward, crashing to the floor.

“I'm sorry,” she cries out, her eyes still screwed shut even as tears continue to spill out from the corners, streaming down her face. Her hands are shaking and she fears that soon everything around her will be, but there's nothing she can do to stop it. Her vision is blurry as she tries to blink away her tears, but even so, she can see that the floor beneath her is grey, and nothing like the wooden panels that line the buildings in Afterlife.

Daisy can feel the vibrations in the air, heightened around her fingertips and she has no idea where she is or who brought her here, but she does not want to cause further destruction wherever she may be. She wants to shout for someone to help her, to scream that she cannot stop the quakes, when she feels a hand upon her shoulder.

“Calm yourself.”

She looks up, and finds that the voice, and touch, had come from a girl, older than Daisy by no more than several years, with hazel eyes that seemed far kinder than any others she has seen before.

“Where am I?”

The girl grabs her arm, pulling her to her feet with ease, considering how shaky Daisy feels, which surprisingly has little to do with her powers and more to do with how afraid she is of the unfamiliar surroundings. Everything is so light, and whilst usually she would find it soothing, she almost longs to be back in Afterlife, where at least she knows her way around.

“Come.”

She wants to refuse, to demand she be returned to where they had found her, but as she turns, following in the direction of the girl, she finds they are not alone. A handful of people stand at the end of the room, surrounding a stone structure that can only be a throne, and for a moment she wonders if this is a hallucination, if she's actually lying in a ditch somewhere having knocked herself out in the darkness.

There's a man sitting on the throne, garbed in black but for the silver designs upon his suit, and Daisy assumes he is the leader of this group, and focuses her attention on him.

He does nothing but stare back in her direction, and she's about to open her mouth and repeat her question when someone else speaks up.

“Welcome to Attilan. You stand before His Majesty, Phillip, King of the Inhumans.”

The voice is firm, cold and reignites the fear within her, and the expression upon the face of the speaker evokes similar emotions. It's a woman, small in stature, with long dark hair that almost appears to be moving around her, and Daisy definitely feels as though she is not welcome here, despite the words she had just heard.

She pinches her arm, holding onto the hope that this is all a fantasy, a figment of her imagination, but the image before her does not waver, and she has had enough.

“Why did you bring me here? Take me back!”

The icy glare from the dark-haired woman almost silences her, but the feelings she has tried so hard to bottle up all come pouring out now, mostly fear, some sadness and all too much anger.

For a moment, the room around them begins to shake, and she watches as the man who had not spoken, the king, moves his hands rapidly in the air.

“Subdue her.”

Again it is the woman who speaks, but before Daisy can even react, there's a ringing in her ears and a pain in her head, and the world fades to black.


	2. Chapter 2

She's a slight thing, all skin and bones, dark tangled hair and big brown eyes that betray her every emotion. Her stance is defiant, but her fear is evident to all who can see, and as Melinda watches the girl, the child, fall to the ground, she frowns.

They had heard many tales of the glory of planet earth here, how the lands seemed to stretch in forever, the oceans deeper than imaginable and every surface filled with life, and that which did sustain it. 

The girl's condition does very little in representing the bountiful world from which they have taken her, as though she has spent much of her life starved of all forms of sustenance. Perhaps Earth is not as glorious as they had been taught, the tales filled with lies to entertain the whims of young children who would likely never know better. It could be that the many images they see, filled with colour, a significant contrast to their mostly monochromatic existence in Attlian, were mirages and did not show the planet's true nature. There is a far more sinister possibility though, that this girl is the way she is, due to the actions of others. The notion that humans were so barbaric as to torture their young through starvation is almost too horrific to think of.

Melinda clenches her jaw, betraying no hint of the dark thoughts on her mind as one of the guards beside her steps forward, levitating the girl in the air and awaiting further instruction. She turns to Phil, sees the way his knuckles are white from how tightly he is gripping the arms of his throne and places a hand on his shoulder. The reaction is instantaneous, how his body relaxes at her touch, and in a moment, his hand reaches up to cover hers, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a soothing manner. She pauses, waiting for him to issue an instruction, but all he does is look to her, staring into her eyes in a way that shatters all her defences. 

“Take her to containment, and ensure she is not harmed any further. She is to be monitored and guarded, and the King and I wish to be informed the moment she awakens.”

She speaks for him, as she always does, but she also speaks for herself. The commands are her own words, for Phil has always permitted her that freedom, to voice her own opinions in and amongst his.

_ I am no king, without you as my queen. _

He has informed her as such many times in all the years they have spent together, and yet even after so long, they are aware others within their society would be reluctant to accept such a thing. For all that they knew and believed, the queen was there only to voice the unspoken wishes of the King, and nothing more. It only works in her favour when they underestimate the true extent of the power she holds over them, so she does little to inform them of such.

They watch in silence as the girl is taken away, and Melinda can anticipate the barrage of questions even before they are asked. Grant, her husband’s despicable brother steps forward first, but he is quickly stopped as Phil rises, holding up his palm in the air. 

The command is simple, for all to comprehend, even without Melinda’s verbal translation.

_ Do not speak. _

She turns her head, observing the way Grant’s face sours at his brother’s orders, how he grits his teeth in a display of impudence, but ultimately yields, nodding and standing back. Phil extends his hand in her direction now and she takes it, her fingers slipping into his grasp. 

His steps are slow as they always are, so that she needs not exert extra effort in order to keep in time with his much longer strides, and they make their way from the throne room together, leaving behind the rest of their family, who are no doubt already discussing the events that had transpired this evening. She has very little desire to know the details of their conversations, and soon the sounds of their voices vanish completely, only the echo of Phil’s steps and her own upon the stone floor remaining. 

The journey back to their rooms is undisturbed, and they pause outside the door when they do arrive. Phil squeezes her hand, gentle as always, bringing it up to his lips to brush a kiss across her knuckles. She smiles then, because there never has been a reason to restrain herself from doing so, to conceal her emotions from her own husband, who knows her as well as she knows herself. 

_ I will not be long. _

She nods in understanding, leaning back against the wall as she watches him leave. Only when she can no longer hear the sound of his footsteps does she slip quietly into their rooms, preparing herself for a long and restless evening.

 

* * *

 

Melinda is sitting at the edge of the bed, slowly combing through her long dark hair when Phil returns, entering the room and locking the door behind him with barely a sound. She listens for his movements but keeps to her task, gently untangling each strand. Several times when she was but a child, she had attempted to smooth her unruly locks by simply willing them to straighten out in her mind.

Suffice to say, it had not gone down so well.

Even now with so much more control over her abilities, Melinda prefers to untangle her hair in a more practical manner. Of course, practicality is not the only reason she has made such a choice. Some may have envied her, marrying a King, becoming the Queen, but the duties of the Royal family seemed to be never ending, and the only peace they could ever find was in the late nights or early mornings, when the rest of the city lay sleeping. Sitting in silence, combing through her hair, is as much free time as she is ever offered, and she cherishes every moment of it.

She is halfway done when the bed dips behind her, the comb gently tugged from her grasp and she closes her eyes, knowing that she is in good hands. Both she and Phil are endlessly patient by nature, but he has a way of smoothing down her hair that not even she can accomplish. She sits still, enjoying the sensation as he runs both the comb and his hands through her locks, separating the strands until they lie mostly flat against her back. 

“Thank you,” she tells him, as she does every night.

Phil moves to return her comb to the nightstand, and she climbs in beneath the sheets, leaning against the headboard as she waits for him to join her. She does not attempt to begin a conversation until he is by her side once more, holding her hands in his own as they sit face to face.

“I do not know what to do.”

He shakes his head.

_ That is expected, normal. I still know nothing of how we should proceed, but I knew from the moment we received reports of severe earthquake activity on earth that whoever was causing it would be safer here, with us. We have an understanding of terrigenesis that those on earth do not, and we can help her adapt to her gifts, as I did mine. _

Phil looks pained when he mentions his own abilities, and Melinda reaches a hand out to cup his cheek, her fingers brushing over the line of his jaw. She knows that even now, with his isolation having ended so long ago, that thinking of those days, locked away alone and with no one to turn to still haunts him. He would never subject another inhuman to the things his own parents had forced upon him.

Never. 

He leans forward, resting his forehead against her own, pulling her hands closer to him, drawing them to rest just above his heart, and she knows exactly what he is trying to convey to her. She presses a gentle kiss against his lips, short but sweet, to show him she feels exactly the same way. 

Phil is smiling when they part - she doesn't see it for her eyes are closed, but she feels it, she knows it to be true. 

“We will help her,” she whispers, even though she does not need to say it for him to know, she needs to hear it for herself, the conviction in her own tone as she pledges to devote her care to a complete stranger. 

It would not be the first time for her.

 

* * *

 

Phil remembers clear as day the first time he laid eyes upon Melinda, when they were just children themselves. He had been alone for just about his entire life, and then she had visited, hair dancing all around her as she studied him.

Thinking back to those times, he thinks he was probably half in love with her from their first meeting alone.

She was almost as silent as he, and he delighted in hearing her voice on the occasions she designed to use it, telling him of the tricks she had played on the other children in the palace.

They had grown up together, him locked inside his cage and her on the other side, always giving him her time, her affections, things he felt that he did not deserve until she came along and made him believe again. As he grew older, he fell more and more in love with her, her even then he had never imagined where they would be today.

Bound together out of love.

Tonight, she is curled up against his chest, her arm flung over his waist and her hair wound loosely around their bodies, holding them together in her sleep. It is not always so, for there are times they sleep entirely apart, on opposite sides of the bed, finding comfort in having their own space around them.

It does not mean that their love is any less, only that they respect one another enough to keep a distance as necessary.

He is thankful that those nights are far and few between, and that the rest of the time they're so close together it is difficult to tell where her body ends and his begins. She shifts against him in her slumber, and he lets his eyes fall closed, knowing that the days to come will not be easy, and that they'll need to rest whenever they are able.

Phil drifts off with a small smile on his face, for he does not fear the future, rather, looking forward to events to come.

 

* * *

 

Daisy is disorientated when she blinks awake, head pounding and body aching and it takes her much too long to realise where she is - in a solid white room with no doors or windows, and therefore, no means of escape. 

She rubs the sleep from her eyes as she pushes herself up from the bed she had been lying on, letting out a quick breath of relief when she sees that her bag is lying on the ground in one corner of the room. In an attempt to show some sort of restraint, she stays seated in bed, not rushing forward to reclaim her belongings as she desired to most. There is every possibility that someone is watching her, though she cannot point out a possible method for doing so. But assuming the people here are powered like those that live in Afterlife, she's willing to bet that she's being monitored.

Her memory is a little foggy, but she tries to recall the last thing she remembers - staring up at the very intimidating group of people, being introduced to a king, and then losing consciousness. She doesn't have long to ponder her thoughts, because a door-sized hole appears in the wall opposite her, and the man who was supposed a king steps through, accompanied by the person she had subconsciously least wanted to see. The doorway vanishes behind them and she swallows, inching further back in the bed, further away from them. 

Physically, they're quite magnificent, but it is in the seriousness of their expressions and the way they hold themselves that has Daisy wary. 

“Who are you?” 

She speaks before she can stop herself, despite already knowing the identity of the man, and doesn't know what to expect. Would they be angry at her for so abruptly addressing them? Could that anger rival her own, the frustrations of being taken away to a place she knew nothing of, to be isolated, and only have the company of strangers?

“I speak for his Majesty, King Phillip. You are in the city of Attilan, home of the Inhumans, and we extend you our hospitality. We have other business to attend to today, but Jemma will be by and answer any questions you have of her.”

Daisy is not even given the opportunity to respond as the pair turn on their heel and prepare to leave the room. The King, Phillip, gives her a small smile, but the woman offers no such pleasantries, and in the blink of an eye, they disappear through the same way in which they had entered.

She does not have to sit around and wait long for more company, because what feels like less than a minute later, the doorway reappears, and the girl with the kind eyes comes through, a tray of what appears to be food in her hands.

“Good morning.”

The girl is in good spirits, setting down the tray on the ground and taking a seat beside it, beckoning for Daisy to join her. To be honest, she's a little wary of doing so, but she is hungry and if these people, these other inhumans, had wanted her hurt her, they could have done so the moment they laid eyes on her. Slowly, she throws back the covers and slides out of bed, frowning when she feels the cold stone floor beneath her feet. As if reading her mind, the girl speaks.

“I removed your shoes, and changed you into these clothes. We did not think you would be comfortable sleeping in the ones you were wearing when we found you. My name is Jemma, in case you were wondering.”

Daisy nods, breathing deeply, wisely keeping her mouth shut instead of retorting that she had slept in far poorer clothing, in far worse places than this. The food smells good enough, and looks expertly prepared, and she finds herself sinking to the ground and reaching out towards it. 

Between mouthfuls, she introduces herself, because aside from participating in her kidnapping, Jemma has been nothing but kind to her.

“I'm Daisy.”

 

* * *

 

Jemma stays with her for almost the entire day, and does indeed answer almost every question that Daisy asks. She also does so in so much more detail than Daisy can really stomach, and it's a struggle to keep focus as Jemma drones on about the history of Attilan. All that Daisy has learned of inhumans comes entirely from her mother, but Jemma seems impressed enough when she demonstrates her knowledge of the terrigenesis process.

She cannot refrain from showing her excitement when she finds out that this city they're in is located on the moon, and that all inhumans her age here had gone through terrigenesis, each developing unique powers of their own. It's all quite fascinating, and she believes every word of it, no matter how impossible it all seems, mostly because of her own destructive abilities that had levelled buildings back on earth. 

“This room is designed to prevent your gift from affecting those outside it. It absorbs your power and redirects it, so that everyone can remain free from harm.”

Daisy knows she cannot rely on a room to protect her forever, or else she'll never be able to leave it, but for now, it's nice to know that she does not have to worry about hurting others. That's the most horrific thing she can imagine, to do harm to innocent people.

She isn't sure of how much time has passed when Jemma finally pauses in her lengthy description of the genetic inheritance of certain traits, and makes to excuse herself.

“I have to go now. We always try to attend at least one meal together as a family, but I'll send someone to bring you food while I'm gone.”

Daisy nods in understanding, but cannot help asking just a few more questions that she has been holding onto since Jemma arrived, ones that she has a far greater interest in.

“Family?”

Jemma smiles, nodding vigorously.

“The Royal Family.”

Daisy tries not to let her surprise show, that kind and caring Jemma is a member of the Royal Family, which according to her own tales, have great power in Attilan.

“I am a cousin to both the King and the Queen,” she says in lieu of a lengthy explanation, for which Daisy is immensely grateful. She does not recall seeing a Queen, but the King and Jemma both dressed quite plainly, and there's no reason why other members of their family would not do the same. Daisy almost asks how it is possible for Jemma to be cousins of both the King and the Queen unless the two were related themselves, which would make for an odd marriage, but from what she has learnt in the past several hours, that line of query would only lead to complicated explanations using family trees and she has more burning questions that she wants to know the answers to.

“Who is the queen?”

Jemma looks startled and confused at this, frowning and scratching the side of her head with one hand.

“She spoke to you yesterday, and came to see you this morning, with the King.”

This time her jaw does fall open, and she scrambles to arrange her thoughts before something that could be misconstrued as rude can spill from her mouth. The dark haired woman with the icy voice and even colder expression was the Queen? Daisy feels sorry for the King, with the friendly smile, and wonders who he angered to end up with such a fate, married to a woman like her. Not knowing what to say, Daisy makes the decision to use her remaining time to ask one final question.

“Why does the King not speak?”

Jemma smiles, reaching out and squeezing her arm, before grabbing the empty tray between them and standing.

“That is a question that you'll have to ask him yourself, I'm afraid.”

She leaves before Daisy can voice her wonder, at how on earth the King can answer her question, if he does not speak.

 

* * *

 

_ She is very inquisitive, don't you think? _

Melinda can see the excitement in Phil’s eyes, and it is definitely contagious, for she finds herself smiling at him. The girl, Daisy, is settling in well enough, but three days is too soon to tell if her physical and mental states are sound. 

They have monitored her from afar, through a screen in their rooms that plays live footage from her cell, and her interactions thus far with Jemma have been quite positive. Melinda fears that Daisy will not warm to her, knowing how little she chooses to express herself can be offputting by those who are not familiar with her personality. She worries about Phil’s desire to pay a visit to Daisy the following morning, knowing that she will have to go along to help interpret, and worrying about her own interactions with the girl. 

_ All will be well, my everything. _

Melinda feels a rare heat rush to her cheeks at Phil’s use of words; they're always affectionate with one another in private, but generally do so through actions and not words. He reaches out to stroke her cheek, attempting to brush back a stray curl, but she allows it to wrap around his wrist instead, holding him close to her. 

She reaches out with another longer strand, switching off the monitors and lights, leaving only a faint glow from outside to illuminate the room.

“I know exactly what you're thinking of,” she whispers, smirking as she lies back on the bed, pulling him with her until almost his entire weight is above her, surrounding her with his warmth. He silences her with a kiss, their lips meeting with the same eagerness they always did when free of other company. 

There was a time, when they were first learning one another, physically, where he was so afraid he would hurt her, for she tested his control more than anything else he had ever encountered. He does not have these same fears now, revelling in just how close to the edge she can bring him before calming him once more. It's hard, inappropriate humour aside, but he stays silent.

Melinda does not.

It is during these most physically intimate moments between them that she voices her affection for him most, quiet groans and louder sighs, whispers of the pleasures they bring for one another and nothing but adoration for him. But it is not at the peak of these sensations where he loves her most, but the aftermath, when they're pressed together, skin to skin, her dark locks a cocoon around them. In times like these he wishes he could speak, just once, to say her name, to tell her just how much he loves her, but then she smiles, her thumb brushing over his lower lip as she gazes sleepily into his eyes, and he knows that he wouldn't live their lives any other way.

She feels the same. 


	3. Chapter 3

Daisy has caused no less than fourteen minor quakes in the three and a half days she has been in Attilan, and Phil is a little concerned. He knows not of the customs of terrigenesis on earth, but most inhuman children in Attilan are subjected to rigorous training before going through the mists, to ensure they are well prepared for the genetically altering process. 

It's impossible to predict what new abilities may be gained, or how well one may be able to control their new gifts, but rarely do they come across powers so volatile, so destructive.

Phil feels a sense of kinship with these individuals that goes beyond sharing the same ancestors - he understands the burden of having powers that all those around you fear, that even you fear, for it is so easy to lose control and destroy everything you love. The moment they had detected these unusual seismic activities on earth, he had sent a scout down to search for the cause.

He did not think that they would end up bringing a child of earth back to Attilan, but for reasons he is not yet entirely sure of, he is glad they did.

 

* * *

 

They visit the chamber in which Daisy is isolated shortly following the midday meal. Grant had been uncharacteristically moody all throughout the morning, even by his standards, but Phil paid his brother no mind, much too excited about the prospect of visiting the girl. 

Melinda holds his hand the entire way there, and he's glad for it, feeling her support both mentally and physically. She is more nervous than even he is, Phil can tell, but her expression of nonchalance does not waver, and he wonders not for the first time how he came to be so lucky, to have a chance to see her smile so often as others did not. They pause outside the chamber entrance, and he pulls her into a quick embrace, just because he can. 

She doesn’t appear particularly surprised or annoyed by his actions, understanding his underlying intentions as always. He wants only to bring her comfort and happiness, and the fact is, he never even really has to try. She needs only to know he is well, and that he loves her as she loves him.

Phil smiles, leaning into Melinda’s touch as she reaches up to cup his cheek, before they pull apart, each taking in a deep breath, readying themselves for whatever may happen next. 

 

* * *

 

Jemma has not visited her today.

Already the second meal of the day has come and gone, and Daisy sees no sign that her only friend in this strange place will be dropping by. She doesn't even know why she expects Jemma to come and see her. Sure, the other girl had been by each day for the past three days she has been locked up in here, but there had never been a confirmation, verbal or otherwise, that she would continue to drop by. Despite having learned to not form attachments from an early age, she can't help but be disappointed.

She sits cross-legged on the bed, twiddling her thumbs, trying to come up with a way to pass the time. It's difficult to keep from just jumping up and yelling out in frustration, but she knows she needs to keep as calm as she possibly can. The room absorbs her powers, but she can feel it when she loses control, feel the vibrations in the air, all around her, coming from her. She can't make it stop, only try not to panic as it happens, so that it does not grow any worse before eventually dissipating. It's a struggle, but she concentrates, staring at a spot opposite her on the wall for as long as she can, until it begins to morph and she blinks, finding herself staring at the King and Queen of Attilan.

Her first instinct is to draw back, a natural reaction she can't control. The King has a friendly smile as he did the last time she saw them, but the Queen appears even more terrifying, her face completely void of any emotion.

“The King and I are here to see for ourselves how you are settling in.”

No false smiles, no flowery language to conceal dark intentions - Daisy supposes that it could be much worse. At least they have the decency to be straightforward and honest with her. She doesn't know how wise it is to be snarky, but being cooped up in a makeshift cage with absolutely no freedom has impacted her logic.

“I'm fine. As fine as anyone could be, locked up like a criminal.”

She feels a small sense of satisfaction when the Queen frowns, recoiling, and notes the way the King’s smile begins to fade. They're clearly bothered by her implications, and she sits there as a silent observer while they stare at each other, the King making unfamiliar gestures with his hands.

“You are not a prisoner here. You are a guest. But until we are sure you won't send our city crumbling to the ground, you will remain here. It is for our safety, and yours.”

Daisy knows she is dangerous. She remembers how she felt the moment she came out of her terrigenesis cocoon and how she came close to bringing the building down around them. 

“We would like for you to learn to control your powers.”

She snorts at that, just barely refraining from rolling her eyes. 

“You sound just like my mother.”

Daisy doesn't anticipate the Queen’s reaction, the way her face darkens and her entire posture stiffens, as if she were not already tense before. She thinks that Her Royal Majesty must really fear the notion of having children, to have her mood changed so drastically by a line that others would consider a joke. 

The King makes his strange signs again, and the Queen grits her teeth before relaying his message, her words no longer sounding in tandem with the movement of his hands.

“We will help you learn to control your powers, and your lessons will begin tomorrow. Once we are assured you won't lose control, you are welcome to join our society, or return to your home.”

She doesn't have a chance to respond, as the Queen seems desperate to leave this situation as quickly as possible. Daisy watches as the woman turns, her long hair sweeping behind her, and she swears she did not see her head move, only the hair. The King spares her one last glance, an odd expression on his face.

It isn't till later that night that she realises what it was.

_ Longing. _

She doesn't even want to consider the implications of her realisation.

 

* * *

 

Phil doesn't like being apart from Melinda. It's true that he is dependent on her to say all the things that he cannot, but his intentions for keeping her close have little to do with her official role as his translator. He does not know if other people feel as he does, to be so in love with someone that you never want to be apart from them. From time to time they'll have little spats, longer arguments, days where she will not speak except when translating for him, but he does not love her any less for the disagreements that they share.

Life cannot be easy for Melinda, being with him, a man who cannot speak, who relies so heavily on her. Sometimes he wonders if she would be happier with someone who could tell her how much they loved her, living a life with the freedom she had always chased after in their adolescence. He may be king, and able to offer her a life of luxury, but he knows these things matter little to her, and sometimes he cannot help but doubt in his own ability to bring her happiness.

The list of those that secretly seek to have her as their own is so lengthy that Phil cannot recall an approximate number. His own brother is one of those that lust after Melinda - he’s seen the way Grant leers at his wife, and how often she has turned him down, threatening bodily harm if he should approach her again. If they were not brothers, Phil would have had him exiled long ago. He lets out a shallow breath, inaudible as always, and reaches up to unzip his suit when he finds his wrists suddenly bound, familiar dark curls winding around them.

“Your thoughts are very loud.”

Melinda is standing before him, wrapped in a thin lilac robe, and he forces a smile, trying to rid himself of all the negative thoughts haunting his mind. 

“They're also very foolish.”

He doesn't respond, standing stock still as she begins to undress him, helping him out of the confines of his suit, peeling away the dark material, her hair acting as extra limbs to assist in the process while her hands rest lightly against his chest. Soon he is left in little but his undergarments, and she quickly rids him of those also, until he is completely bare to her. 

“You know that I would never do anything if it did not please me.”

Melinda’s voice is lower now, and he swallows, breathing shallowly through his nose as she takes his hand, leading him over to the steaming hot pools where they often bathed together. She waits for him to lower himself into the water, before slipping out of her robe, winding her hair into a tight coil upon her head, and climbing in after him, settling into his lap.

He kisses her then, desperate, needing to feel her lips upon his own, her fingers digging into his shoulders and her legs wrapping around his waist as they curl up together, closer, leaving no room for water to flow between them. She moves her hands up to touch his face when they pull apart, tracing the edge of his jaw, the bridge of his nose, the curve of his cheek.

_ I know my thoughts are foolish, but I also know you are far too good for me, to me. _

She shakes her head then, leaning forward and brushing the tip of her nose against his. He knows she is showing him all of her affections, in the way they're most familiar. 

Through touch.

They leave all their worries behind in this moment, knowing that there is time to discuss issues and fears in the darkness of their chambers, late into the evening. For now, he concentrates only on her body against his, and how happy he is to be here, completely helpless and under her control.

 

* * *

 

They do end up speaking for hours that night, lying side by side within the warmth of one another’s embrace. Maintaining order and peace in their city is difficult, and as King and Queen they have always had so many matters to attend to, but they've made a new priority for themselves now.

Daisy.

Bringing her to Attilan had been an impulsive decision, but he still stands by it. He hadn't waited to know Melinda's opinion on the matter before ordering that the girl should be retrieved and brought into their city, but he knew in the way that she held his arm afterwards, that she would not have had it any other way.

They only wanted to help, as they still do now.

“Would you not make a better teacher in showing her how to learn control through meditation?”

He knows Melinda is wary of spending time alone with Daisy, and if he is to be completely honest, he has doubts about it himself. The room they're holding her in can keep her powers contained, protecting the rest of the city, but being inside… it’s dangerous. Should Daisy lose control and trigger a quake of severe magnitude during their training sessions, Melinda could be seriously injured as a result.

There is nothing in the world that would make him willingly sacrifice his wife.

He had not been particularly supportive of Jemma’s visits either, but the environment was peaceful then. Learning control is stressful - he knows that from personal experience, and he dreads what might occur if she should crumble under the weight upon her shoulders and being everything around her down as well. They have very little choice in the matter though, and he has the utmost faith that Melinda will be able to help Daisy.

As she had helped him all those years ago.

_ I trust you. Only, you. _

She nods, her hand reaching for his, interlocking their fingers. They're both tired, needing sleep more than anything, but still he leans in a little closer and captures her lips with his own, slower and softer than earlier in the evening. She kisses him back - he thinks it would destroy him if a day came where she didn't, and they lie there, enjoying the mere presence of one another. He tugs at her bottom lip with his teeth, playful, gentle, teasing.

They pull apart eventually, and end up turning before they sleep, facing away from one another. The gap between them may seem endless to some, but she snakes a tendril of hair to wrap around his wrist, and even apart, they're connected.

 

* * *

 

Daisy lies awake, late into the night, unable to fall asleep, no matter how hard she tries to. She tosses and turns and it's definitely psychological, no matter how much she may despise the very notion. There’s little in the world she hates more than shrinks.

As daunting as she knows it will be, to spend more time with the King and Queen, she wants to try, to make this work. Once she can control her powers, she can go back to Afterlife, where they will have no more excuses to keep her confined. 

All she needs is to survive this.

With all she’s already been through, what's a little training with the head of the royal family, rulers of a race that are likely considered impossible by scientists back on earth, living here, on the dark side of the moon.  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

Daisy had not particularly been looking forward to spending time with the King and Queen, and her disappointment grows when she learns that it is only  _ her _ Majesty who will be assisting in her “training.”

Queen Melinda.

Daisy doesn't think there's anything visibly wrong with the woman. She's beautiful, with hair that makes Daisy envious and sympathetic at the same time, for she wonders how much effort one must go into to maintain so much of it. The way she walks and talks and acts is befitting of her Royal status, or so Daisy assumes, for she's never really met monarchs before. 

The only thing is that she seems so cold.

She does not smile, or show any kind of emotion, and her tone is always the same when she’s speaking. 

It's odd, and Daisy really wants to find out why. 

She gets her chance early in the afternoon, when the Queen shows up in her room, or cell as she's taken to calling it in her mind, dressed differently than she has seen before. Gone is the dress, replaced by a dark top and grey pants, and she looks so normal, yet still has a regal air about her.

It only takes a moment for Daisy to decide that the Queen is much less daunting like this.

They don't speak, or rather, Daisy isn't afforded much opportunity to. The Queen talks  _ at  _ her, rather than to her, issuing instructions on how to empty her mind, and showing her how to breathe in order to slow her racing heartbeat. It's easy enough to close her eyes and concentrate on the sound of the Queen’s voice, but far more difficult to reign in her wild thoughts.

She feels the tremors coming before they do, but there’s absolutely nothing she can do to stop them. Her eyes snap open and she almost chokes, gasping, trying to draw more are into her lungs and losing all semblance of control over her actions. There's a buzzing in her ears, but she’s still dimly aware of the Queen speaking beside her. Clinging onto the surprisingly stable sound, the panic fades, though no faster than usual, and she manages to take a few deep breaths, steadying herself.

Daisy is given no reprieve despite her loss of control, and the session continues, with several minor  _ “outbursts”  _ following. The Queen does not seem to be affected, and offers no more kindness or soothing words and gestures than Daisy expects. When their time comes to an end, she leaves with a sharp nod, and a quiet “ _ I will see you tomorrow _ .”

Daisy releases a sigh of relief when she’s alone once more, and focuses on her own hands. 

It could be that she is imagining things, but she swears that they are trembling less than usual.

 

* * *

 

There were nights where Phil dreaded falling asleep. It was most often during his childhood, where he would drift off and wake up to find everything inside his containment chamber obliterated, all because he accidentally made a noise during his slumber.

If he could not learn to control himself, even while unconscious, he could never leave this prison and live among his people. 

His father had said before, that a man with no voice could never be king. He knew also that a man who was isolated, hidden away from those he was meant to rule, was barely a man at all. Control was almost impossible to master, until Melinda came along, and gave him a reason to want more for himself than he was resigned to.

It was she who sat by him, albeit with a fortified wall between them, and coached him on breathing and becoming still, until his mind was void of all thoughts. She never feared him as others did, and it was she who inspired him to become the man he is today. It is why he does not dream, because she taught him so. Allowing himself to be consumed by fantasies would only lead to endangering those around him, and even to this day he is completely aware that calling out in his sleep could kill her.

Yet she trusts him enough to lie in his arms, to be beside him when he is most liable to make a crucial mistake. Each time he thinks he could not love her any more than he already does, another reason will come to mind, and he can do little but marvel at this woman who possesses his devotion.

She is here now, her cheek resting against his chest, her shallow breaths tickling the skin there. He knows she is still asleep, because her hair is moving around of its own accord, shifting and curling around him, binding them together. It is only because she lets her guard down around him, that he is able to experience this. 

It is still early in the morning, and usually he would still be asleep, but he is glad to be awake, to experience the sheer beauty of his wife splayed out above him, the light of their artificial sun bringing out the golden brown tones in her hair. Melinda is not likely to sleep for much longer, and so he savours this moment. His daily meditation is done to clear his mind and achieve peace, but even those hours sitting alone in his old isolation chamber does not bring him the same tranquility as lazy early mornings in bed with Melinda.

Sure enough, after only several minutes, Melinda begins to stir, her hair unfurling from around him as she shifts, tilting her head up to gaze upon his face with an expression of contentment. 

_ Good morning, my everything. _

He reaches for her hand, pulling her fingertips to his lips and pressing a dozen kisses against them till she pulls away, clambering upon his body with a soft yawn. She looks even more incredible from this angle, if the notion of her transcending the level of beauty she already possessed were believable, and he reaches forward, settling his hands against her hips as she hovers above him.

With a smile, she leans down, her hair blanketing them as she kisses him. It's bliss, and lasts approximately two seconds before there’s a series of loud beeps and he tries not to let his disappointment show as he reaches over to retrieve it. He finds himself unable to move any further, Melinda having coiled a thick band of hair around his arm. 

Phil smiles, lying there, completely helpless as she checks to see who is disturbing them so early in the morning, and when she moves off him, releasing his arm as she goes, he does frown, showing her exactly how he feels about this interruption to their little morning routine. 

“There's a small matter they need us to go and handle. I'll go myself. You should try and sleep a little more. You looked tired.”

He lies back, watching as she quickly dresses and reaching a hand out to her before she leaves. 

“Sleep,” she mumbles, kissing him once more. Her forehead rests above his and he tugs her hand to his heart, because he cannot let an opportunity to let her know his feelings pass.

_ You mean everything to me. _

He wonders if anyone would be so foolish as to not show the woman they loved just how much so, whenever and however they could possibly do so.

She smiles at him, pressing their lips together once more before she pulls away for good, a tendril of hair waving him goodbye as she goes. He closes his eyes and tries to fall asleep once more, burying his face against the sheets, the lingering smell of Melinda invading his senses.

 

* * *

 

It's been two weeks since Melinda first started working with Daisy in an attempt to try and help the girl control her powers, and they're finally seeing a little progress.

She remembers how unrestrained Daisy had been at first, nearly injuring herself and Melinda several times. It was only through sheer luck that they had managed to complete each session unscathed. She had thought it would be more difficult, to have Daisy sit opposite her and just breathe for an hour, clearing her mind and learning to be still. 

Melinda had been wrong.

Daisy is more emotional than the other adolescents living in Attilan - she suspects it must be an environmental factor, noting the differences between their world here, and life on earth. She's able to concentrate and maintain silence for the most part, but occasional fluctuations in her emotions have her losing control and shaking the entire room.

She's volatile, unstable, but Melinda has no fears about being there beside her. Phil is perhaps the most dangerous inhuman in existence and she's been by him for years with little consequence. To be fair, his control is far greater than what someone as young as Daisy could possibly possess, and she wonders if it might be time to invite her husband to one of their sessions, so that he might impart some wisdom onto the girl. 

Phil certainly would have no qualms about such an interruption to his monotonous daily schedule, and the selfish part within her likes having him with her whenever they are able.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> :) thank you for reading! if you enjoyed the story, i always appreciate kudos and comments - they make my gloomy existence just a little bit brighter.


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